The Gift of Wang
by O'MalleytheAlleyCat
Summary: One shot of H/H, hurt and humor. Dean and Sam end up in a compromising situation about to be sacrificed to Wang by a college student. They do what brothers do best and argue instead of actually working on escaping.


One shot of H/H Humor and Hurt. For those unfamiliar with what wang means.. well I'm sure the context will be forthcoming. I imagine maturity level between the boys would put this somewhere around season 2, however, it is written to accommodate any season. Pick and choose as you please. Started out as me trying to come up with a rapper name for the Winchester brothers, somehow I ended up here.

* * *

 **The Gift of Wang**

* * *

 _The Present_

They're not even trying, honest to God, really these things just happen to them. It's a sick, cruel joke that someone in some hemisphere who has control over their lives is laughing about. Absolutely laughing their asses off about it, because Winchester luck-dash that- Winchester existence is a cruel joke. One however that seems to be amazing for those intent on getting laugh lines early in life. At least, that's Sam opinion of it all, why else Sam thinks, would he have a knife buried in his gut while his brother lies unconscious.

Sam glances down at the place where blood is leaking between knife and skin and he groans in pain as it shifts a millimeter. Sam looks over at Dean but his brother is out cold. Sam curses under his breath, why did things suck this bad?

* * *

 _Several Hours Earlier_

"Wang?"

Sam nearly roles his eyes when Dean says that because he knows what's coming next.

"Wenchang Wang" the man sneers back. Dean sniggers, and oh God does Sam want to slap his brother.

"Is there something funny about that?"

"No." Dean answers in his voice which screams 'liar'.

"Just you know, we're about to get sacrificed to Wang. The god of Wang." Dean's outright laughing now. Sam finally intervenes.

"Dean" it's hissed, short and quiet. And of course his brother doesn't listen, instead Dean laughs some more.

"He is not the God of Wang!" the man screams at them.

"Wenchang Wang is the God of Culture and Literature." the haughty air assumed by their captor merely goads Dean on.

"Yeah, I bet he gets a lot going on with the culture."

"Shut up Dean."

Sam is trying, really he is. Both of them are tied up to chairs in some apartment that probably barely rates as a cleaning closet. How some scrawny college kid managed to knock them both out and carry them here is a mystery to Sam, one he doesn't want to figure out since it probably has something to do with their perpetual Winchester luck, that and the fact that their lives are a walking sitcom of dark humor and impossibility. So yes, Sam is trying.

"It doesn't matter" the guy spits at them while his eyes widen and gain a crazy gleam. He's 5'5 and probably weighs at top 130 lbs.

"Because once I've sacrificed you two to Wenchang Wang-"

Dean sniggers again but this time the guy ignores him.

"I will have a perfect score on the SOA and you two, along with everybody else who's doubted me, will be wrong!"

Sam frowns, the SOA? Perfect score?

"You did this to get a good grade on a test?" Dean is laughing again.

Sam wants to punch him now. Because they're about to get sacrificed for a desperate college student and his test scores. If that doesn't scream 'Lame way to die' Sam isn't sure what does.

"Here I thought Sam was the nerdy loser."

"Shut up!" The kid screams.

Sam would face palm if he wasn't tied to a chair. Dean sometimes had the maturity and humor of a nine year old boy. Dash that, Dean always had the maturity and humor of a nine year old boy.

"Yes Dean" He says sending his brother a bitch face and sarcastic smile. "Shut up."

Dean sends back a withering glare and the man realizes that the two are completely not taking him seriously.

"Don't be a bitch Sam, it's going to make your pretty princess hair fall out from stress."

This makes Sam's already present bitch-face increase power.

"I'm not being a bitch Dean, if anyone is being anything here, it's you."

"You're just being this way because I insisted we go to that diner instead of the stupid vegan shop you wanted to check out."

"I don't see why we can't go to shops that I want to sometimes. We're always getting your shit food because Dean Winchester is a man and can't eat like he isn't a barbarian who doesn't want to see a day past fifty."

Sam blinks, giving his head a small shake. _Perspective and priorities Sam, perspective and priorities. Man, chair, dagger, possible death by sacrifice._

"Besides, that has nothing to do with us being tied to chairs about to be sacrificed to Wang."

Dean sniggers again. And Oh God, they're not getting anywhere. The man who has been watching them with a jaw slack from shock finally snaps out of it.

"Both of you shut up!" He screams, now panting from using up all his air yelling at the two.

"I have to gather supplies to summon Wenchang Wang."

The guy stood up, drawing from his bag two syringes.

Sam could hear Dean mutter a grumbling curse under his breath.

"Until then-" the guy said, offering a tight and angry smile. "I need you two to stay here."

Sam watches as the guy plunges the first syringe into his brother's neck before walking over to him and repeating the process. His head stays clear for a few moments before everything begins to fuzz and then go black.

* * *

Sam isn't sure of the time when he feels the first flickers of consciousness. It isn't until he can bring his eyes to open that he sees the guy standing in front of them again, a strange chalice in hand, Chinese characters drawn on the floor, and some kind of incense burning in the corner.

They are so screwed.

"Dean?" He moans out.

There isn't a response and Sam rolls his head to look at his brother. The man must have hit them with the same doses because Dean is still out; Sam's got a good twenty pounds on his brother, maybe more. He still feels like shit though, head spinning and stomach turning. The wisps of smoke which circle the room and fill it with a pungent sharp odor aren't doing much to help either.

"Dean." Sam's voice is steadier this time but Dean doesn't even stir.

A trembling voice breaks the air, stumbling over words in Chinese. The smoke which had originally just been turning the room into a second hand homeopathic hippy shop begins to twist unnaturally, supernatural wind picking up and whipping through the room. Sam blinks furiously as his hair irritates his eyes and strands fall into his mouth.

A knife is raised by the scrawny college student and Sam can't believe that the only thing he can really do at the moment is splutter as his hair gets coated in his saliva; he's kind of glad Dean isn't awake to rib him about getting a haircut. The kid kneels in front of Sam, an old piece of bone resting delicately in one hand and the knife in the other. Sam recognizes it as jiaguwen, an early form of Chinese writing kept on the bones of animals, and how the hell this kid got a hold of something like that baffles Sam.

The kid leans forward, obviously some sort of blood ritual involved in this whole thing, and Sam takes his opportunity, drawing back and slamming his head into the kid's. The college student crumples to the floor unconscious, however, the drug must have messed up Sam's head some what because he hit too hard and overbalanced the chair, sending him crashing down on top of the college student. He feels the sensation of being punched in his gut.

Everything is unnaturally quiet, the wind gone as soon as the kid had gone down, and all Sam can hear is the ragged sound of his own breathing. Sam manages to roll enough to take the pressure off of the hilt but can't do much more still tied to the chair. It hasn't started hurting yet, but Sam can feel the knife sunk to the hilt in his belly, just thinking about it makes him pale and his hearing turn to a loud tinny ringing. He can't go into shock though, not with Dean tied up next to him unable to help until his body is able to process the drug. Sam just needs to stay alive long enough to survive.

* * *

 _Present_

It's been ten minutes and Sam isn't sure he can hold on for much longer, the pain has started to kick in and he forgot how crappy it feels to get stabbed. With the work they do the Winchester brothers must either be complete idiots or some how a couple of masochists. Sam settles on idiots because he is thoroughly not enjoying his bout of being at the wrong end of a knife. He really isn't looking forward to informing Dean that he practically threw himself onto the knife.

Trying to keep his breaths even from where he is still collapsed on top of the unfortunate and dumbass college student, Sam closes his eyes. A strangled moan has him opening his eyes and tilting his head so he can see his brother where he is still tied to a chair.

A few seconds later and the first words out of Dean's mouth make Sam feel a twist of love, "Sammy?"

Sam licks his lips, trying to well up the strength to respond.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice is hoarse but stronger.

There is the sound of Dean cursing and Sam realizes that he must look a sight, face planted on top of the college student, absolutely still and no doubt blood beginning to stain the area beneath him.

"Sammy, you better sure as hell answer me and be alive or else-"

"M'good." Sam manages to whisper out effectively making Dean stop talking for a moment.

There is another curse word and his brother's usual platitudes and promises, the 'it's going to be alright' spiel. It's a load of crap, but as always Sam can breath a tad easier listening to his brother talk and work on getting his way out of his restraints. Sam knows Dean and he knows his brother will be out of the ropes in ten minutes tops.

He focuses on breathing during that time, until Dean is carefully tilting the chair so it's on it's back and so is Sam. There is another expletive but Sam is too tired to really care. A minute is spent with Dean doing something, talking to someone and then he can feel the rope falling away. Things start to float away and Dean is screaming and Sam doesn't really care because Dean insulted his hair and hah, the asshole gets to freak out about something. Take that, point one for pretty princess hair. He's too tired to see that fact that getting himself stabbed really isn't a very good way to get back at his brother, too much of a double edged knife (pun intended). Sam then slips into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

 _A Week Later_

"So, Wang?" Dean intones, eyebrows wagging.

Sam groans and rolls his head against the window. They had just gotten out of the hospital and he knows Dean is taking them to a hotel to rest up, no doubt intent on mother henning Sam by putting him in a swathe of bubble wrap, it is equal parts annoying and warming, knowing that Dean cares and that the man is such a worry wart.

"Oh, come on Sammy, aside from you impaling yourself on a knife we got to go up against Wang." Dean's tone indicates that this is somehow an amazing achievement.

Dean wags a finger. "And we won. Told you all my years of experience would come in use." Dean sounds way too smug and Sam is getting really sick of this stupid and humiliating metaphor.

"Do you have to be so nasty? Because if I throw up you're going to be the one cleaning it up."

"Don't throw up Sam, because if you do I'll-" Dean flounders with coming up with a decent punishment.

At the moment and probably for the next several weeks Sam isn't going to be doing any kind of manual labor.

"Anyway, I didn't impale myself on the knife."

"Uh-huh, because it sounds so much better to say a 20 year old, 130 pound college student-who was, I might add, unconscious at the time-took you down."

Sam glowers, it's true and as much as Dean will mother hen he will probably never let Sam live this down. "Shut up, Dean."

"And there's that Stanford education I miss so much."

There was the sound of a loud thwack as a nearly empty water bottle hits Dean in the side of the head along with a yelp and sounding of the horn. Dean screams out some expletive at the driver he had almost driven off the road and Sam leans against the seat, satisfied and feeling very mature. There wasn't really any other place he wanted to be.

* * *

Blame Gilbert, he was hanging out with Donnie and Doreen.


End file.
